Dapper. Intense. Awesome. All words that have been used to describe yours truly, your new favorite creator of gender trouble and mischief, particularly of the written variety. If you aren’t challenging that dominant subjectivity you aren’t rockin’ – and lemme give you a heads up; I always am rockin’ something, whether it be a bow tie, a flat brim cap, or some girl’s world – which is perfect because I know The Monolith is going to rock you all. Hard.
I’m here to help this noble cause by bringing you some great (hopefully!) pieces on film and sexuality (everyone’s favorite decadent poison). I’ll talk about gender and how it appears on screen too, but nothing of the “touchy, transformative women’s studies seminar, let’s all hug now” variety. I promise. Cross my icy heart.
Film is intoxicatingly sexy, and I’m excited to show you the mechanisms of this in a meaningful form that extends beyond talking about the obligatory tit shots from some of our favorite slasher films (but, honestly, who doesn’t love those?!). My aim is to push us beyond that point because, let’s face it, we all know virgins don’t die, fucking will kill you, and that serial killers represent Otherness (thank you, Carol Clover, you are brilliant). My goal is bring trill commentary on sexuality together with the films we love. For example, why is that threesome in Wild Things so goddamn watchable? Stay tuned for my answer to that one (and it does not simply lie in Denise Richards’ jaw dropping school girl outfit, even though I wish it did).
I’m Jane Fraud and this is the beginning of what I hope will be a dysfunctional, yet incredibly passionate relationship. Before I start carving our initials into all the plastic trees around me, it’s only fair if I tell you a bit about me starting with our mutual friend: film.
The first movie I remember seeing is Bambi, but don’t hold that against me; it’s pretty hard to steer your own stroller out of a darkened theater while your parents try to force-feed you wholesome family entertainment. Luckily for me (and the world) in the years since this first cinematic trauma, I’ve watched a few more films and sat in more than a few darkened theaters. I like to think of film as my dream girl: an effortlessly sexy and badass girlfriend who is equally at home with a flask of whisky (bedazzled, of course) in hand as she is walking her grandma across the street. Things are getting pretty serious between us. I think I could be in love…well, lust.
I like to write on all genres and periods within cinematic history, but I tend to return to dark drama and horror most frequently, so you’ll probably see that first in terms of what I produce here. Besides, what’s hotter than some heart-pounding terror in an empty theater? Nothing. I’ve also got a soft spot for stoner comedies, but shhh, don’t tell anyone, I’ve a reputation to protect!
On a particularly affective day I might even turn on some Classic Hollywood cinema, just not Citizen Kane. There will be no Orson Welles in my column…ever. That’s just how I roll, sorry to disappoint those of you who live and die by the utterance of “rosebud.”
In my other life, I write serious academic film criticism that deals with topics of gender construction on screen, queerness, and trauma, so this is a welcome move towards more exciting avenues and communities of thought that exist outside of the ivory tower. I’ve got BAs in English and Women’s Studies as well as an MA in Medieval Literature, but I promise you’d never know that by looking at me. I don’t have wizard swords hanging on my wall, but if you do, I’ll have an instant crush on you. Please discuss anything and everything with me. Film stuff. Medieval stuff. Sexuality stuff. Latin stuff. I’m always listening and reading. Let’s watch something together and fight about it. Just a disclaimer, though. I fight dirty and don’t play by the rules. You’ve been warned.
When I’m not writing about film I’m busy wearing bow ties, getting tattoos, and experimenting with gender everywhere I go. Sometimes I drink coffee in coffee shops, sometimes I don’t. Sometimes I go to spin class at 8am, sometimes I’m out at the bar until 4am. I’m an adventurous bitch, what can I say? My name comes from my favorite sexologist, Freud. I have no shame in that. I think Freud is a genius, but I’m not going to plunge you into the depths of psychoanalysis here because I am chill bro and Freud is NOT chill. I’m never without my headphones and some tunes, but you’ll have to get to know me better before I tell you what delightful sounds are filling my ears. They say having a little mystery in life keeps things exciting, no?
All of this being said, I’m raising my French 75 to you, Dear Readers. Let’s fall in love.
And in going with the theme we have going, behold my favorite film of the year, Cabin in the Woods (Gotta love that meta horror narrativity!):